


You Can Stay

by H4T08



Series: Behind the Door [4]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Drinking, Episode: s01e07 Eye of the Needle, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 06:26:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11480571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/H4T08/pseuds/H4T08
Summary: Taking pity on her, I lightly kiss her forehead and murmur, “You can go back to sleep. I can see myself out.” Untangling my arms from her warm body, I sit on the edge and scrub the sleep my face with the heel of my hands.“You can stay," her voice is small, frightened of the repercussions of her decisions.





	You Can Stay

**Author's Note:**

> Post 'Eye of the Needle'. 
> 
> Not sure if everyone read 'Getting Drunk and Fraternizing' (the 3rd in the series)... the way it was posted, it was backdated by two days. 
> 
> Sigh... still trying to learn how to work this site. (Although this is why I'm probably the only person under 30 that still doesn't have a twitter account!!)

** Chakotay’s POV **

  
Enjoying the last little drop of wine as it glides down my throat, I slam my glass down and lay my hard head on the cool glass of the table. That was the last of the alcohol that I had in my quarters; the half bottle of whiskey Kathryn gave to me, the quarter bottle of wine she brought over for dinner and the three mini bottles left in here by my predecessor.

  
Rolling my eyes, I'm not even close to the drunk I want to be at the moment.

  
I'm sure there are several people on this ship just trying to erase the days events with one nasty habit or another. With the thrill of seeing loved ones blossoming in the pit of our bellies, it was so cruelly taken from us, not just once, but many times within the span of just a few hours.

  
Now with depression at an all time high across the ship, all I want to do is to get drunk and blissfully pass out until it's my next shift on the bridge.

  
Kathryn…

  
A little jolt of curiosity nudges along the pathways of my brain that is not yet affected by the mix of alcohol. Not for the first time since the truth of Telek’s death four years prior do I think about how she is holding up. She looked as if she were on the verge of crying when I left the bridge. Where is she? What is she doing? Is she even in her quarters? I roll my eyes at the image of her still in her ready room, pouring over the latest report or schematic of some part of the engine and refusing to go back to her quarters where she won't have anything to distract her. Loneliness can be a cruel bitch.

  
Yet, I have to admit that she is better at handling the sting of loneliness of command better than I did. In the Maquis, there was no shortage of women at the ports we stopped off at. However, things are different here; there are no friendly ports and – funny enough – I prefer Kathryn's company anytime over a nameless woman looking to get a quick fix between her legs. Curious… how she is able to change that need in me after one meet-n-greet with drinks, one dinner, and just over three months of serving as her First Officer. I shake my head of that sobering thought.

 I don't want to be sober.

 So focusing back to the challenge at hand, I try to think about other ways to garnish a bottle of real alcohol. Creating a still? Nope, it would take too long. A surprise inspection on a crew member that I know has real alcohol? Too damn cruel. I know that Kathryn has a few bottles stashed away somewhere in her quarters...

  
Damn... The treacherous image of both of us sitting on that couch so close together that we can melt into our kiss plays torturously in my mind over and over again. And as much as I tell myself that I should never enjoy it, the simple touch of her peaceful smile eases the pain in my chest that has resided there since the death of Mother.

 If her presence effects me so, wouldn't it be helpful to go to her as a friend? To take her up on the offer to go to her if I needed it? Would she even invite me in? If what I'm feeling is any indication, I know for damn sure that what she is feeling is ten times worse. Maybe it is she who needs someone – a friend – to help take her mind off of things.

  
Tapping my comm badge before I lose my courage, I ask the computer, “Computer, location of Captain Janeway?”

  
Her cool voice replies, “Captain Janeway is located in her quarters.”

  
Nodding to the new piece of information, I slightly stumble out of my quarters with a new prerogative to make sure that Kathryn is okay.

  
The distance between our quarters are just a few steps apart now that I have officially moved into the First Officers quarters, however, there has been a shift change and the corridor is filled with people either coming off their shift to drown their sorrows with whatever means necessary or people trying to scrub the remnants of their sin off of their skin as they go to their duty station. Starfleet and Maquis alike are suffering tonight.

  
Noticing that there are still some people meandering through the corridor around her door, I make a full circle around the deck. I am thankfully still in my uniform, so as I pass by crew members, they just nod instead of stopping me to chat. Once I see that the corridor is empty, I walk up to her door and reach out to nervously press the chime. Waiting for her to answer, I am continuously glancing side to side to make sure we will not be interrupted. Ringing the chime again, a small sense of panic begins to grip my stomach. In my limited experience of coming to her quarters after the Caretakers Array was destroyed, I'm unsure of how to react when she doesn't answer after my third attempt.

  
After my fifth ring as well as a check from the computer that she is healthy, I resign to the fact that she is just too tired to answer the door and that I should just let her be.

  
Just as I turn to go back, the sound of her door opens behind me and I instantly sweep around. However, the euphoria from her presence is quickly drowned by the fact that her robe is sticking to her wet, naked body and the scowl set on her beautiful face let's me know that I am in deep shit.

  
Yet, despite her menacing eyes on me, all I can do is stare. Spirits, she is gorgeous! Many tendrils of her hair hangs lovingly around her face as a bead of water – or sweat – marks a slow path from her neck to the crevice between her breasts. Then, as if the Spirits weren't finished blessing me, she wraps her hand around my arm and yanks me into her dark quarters. “What the hell are you thinking?”

  
Her angry voice somehow filters through my lusty mind and jerks me back to the present. One of my hands has unknowingly made its way to her hips while the other is twirling a strain of her silky hair between my fingers. Glancing into her eyes, I can feel the anger radiating from them, but I can also see a hint of something else. Her crystal blue eyes are so expressive that I can see every emotion that she is feeling. Moving my hand to capture her cheek, I nudge her her jaw to understand what I saw.

  
She is fighting me by trying to pull away, but my hand stays firmly on her hip.

  
And that’s when I see it. A bead of a moisture – which I thought at first was sweat – marks its way down her cheek and is absorbed by my waiting thumb. She is crying. The sight of her tear makes my heart explode with grief. She is the strongest person on this ship, yet when a personal tragedy befalls upon the whole crew, she shoulders it until she is in the safety of her own quarters. But whose shoulder can she lean on when she needs it?

  
Enveloping my arms around her body, I silently tell her that I am here for her. Then letting go, I take a step back and apologize, “I'm sorry for the way I just acted.”

  
Shivering from the lack of warmth that her thin robe cannot supply, she folds her arms along her chest after she impatiently wipes away a piece of her hair sticking to her forehead. “What do you need, Commander?”

  
The use of my title is not lost on me. Despite those two evenings we sat together and became as close as two strangers who are meant to hate each other can be, she still needs an invisible line to show the professional and personal sides of our already complicated relationship. “I came to see if you were okay?”

  
Lifting her perfectly manicured brow, she replies, “Well as you can see, I am just fine. Now please, leave my quarters.”

  
Days from now, I know I'm going to blame my actions on the alcohol or the rampant corse of emotions surging through me, or even both, but at this moment, I'm involved. And she is not fine. Taking a step back into her personal space, I argue, “You are anything but fine.”

  
Throwing her hands in the air, she yells, “What do you want me to say? That I'm angry at our latest failed attempt to get back home? That I'm disgusted with myself at trapping us here?” Eyeing me with such contempt, I fear that if she we're telekinetic, she would have thrown me clear across the ship. “Then yes to all of the above, but my question to you, Commander, is why do you care? I can smell the alcohol on your breath. If that is what you desire to get your mind off of another failure of mine, then go commiserate in the holodeck at that French bar. But don't barge into my quarters late at night and presume to tell me how I feel. I know exactly how I feel without you here to remind me.” Turning back towards her bedroom, she kicks me out with a swift “dismissed” before disappearing beyond the wall.

  
Feeling like a school boy who just got in trouble by his favorite teacher, I dejectedly make an about face and trudge towards her door. Just before I open it, that is when I hear it – a small, childlike voice reaching out to me in the form of a whimper.

  
She just confessed that she is feeling like the most hated person on this ship and she kicked me out in true captain’s fashion, but the small piece of me who has seen the the Kathryn side of her wants to give her comfort. Plucking up the courage, I quietly pad to the door of her bedroom and peek in. She is lying in a fetal position away from me on her bed as her body violently jerks in silent sobs. The stream of brightly colored stars rushing past us is the only source of light.

  
Folding my hands in front of me, I softly beseech, “Kathryn, I know you don't want anyone to see you like this, but I beg of you, as your friend to let me comfort you. You are not alone when it comes to bringing this ship home safely.”

  
“No, I'll be fine.” Her heavy voice cracks under the pressure of the various emotions that are probably running rampant through her small body.

  
Taking a timid step in, I confess, “What if I told you that I needed you right now?" Opening my mouth to explain what I had said, I quickly close it. I do need her, more than anyone else on this ship. Simply, there is no other explanation needed.

  
After a long moment of staring at her curved back, she glances over her shoulder and gives me a slight nod.

  
Shuffling in, I gently lean down on the mattress with my hip and swing my legs on. Taking her stiff body against mine, I wrap my arms around her small frame. Already, I can feel the tightness in my chest from the days disappointment loosen. Giving her a light peck on the small stretch of skin behind her ear, I murmur into her stringy hair, “I know you will find this hard to believe, but I will always be here for you, Kathryn.”

  
“Please, don't make promises that we both know you can't keep.” Gripping my arm, her voice orders me to keep my distance but her body treacherously craves the warmth.

  
Not wanting us to get into another fight, I hold my tongue and let us drown in silence. Urging my body to relax, it worries me when I don't feel her do the same.

  
“I sent my message to Starfleet stating where we were and that we were safe for the time being.” Her voice drips with disdain at the soaring cost of being the highest ranking officer in an unknown quadrant of space. She doesn't have the luxury of contacting her family like the others – if it even reaches there on time.

  
I knew that when she had us come up with short messages to give to Telek R’Mor. “I gave a short message to a stranger by the name of Mark Johnson telling him that his fiancé is safe.” Hearing her lungs hitch in surprise, I add, “I knew you didn't have enough space in your message to reach him, and as I had told you before, I have no family to write home to.”

  
After several moments of silence surrounding our intertwined bodies, she breaths out a heartfelt, “thank you,” before relaxing against my chest.

  
Letting minutes, hours, days, years pass, I finally hear the soft lilt of her breathing roll into a relaxed pattern. Knowing that she is asleep, I too fall into a deep slumber.

  
Dreaming of many things that pass by with a quick blink of an eye, I am groggily torn out of my slumber by the warm press of a body against mine. Trying desperately to comprehend where I am and who is with me, I take a deep breath in to find a familiar scent tickling my nose. It's her. I know it's her by the smell of her soap. Intoxicated far more than the use of alcohol, my other senses begins to wake as I feel her stirring from her own slumber.

  
Feeling a small bud of skin stretch to the palm of my hand, my breath becomes erratic when it dawns on me that my hand is cupping her small, perfect breast. Her robe must have shifted in the middle of the night. And as much as I know that I need to move my hand to a safe place on her body, I can't help but relish in the softness of her bare skin. Spirits, how I wish that I can explore this part of her body with my tongue.

  
Now wide awake and totally cognizant of my body, I realize with intense trepidation that a certain part of my body is pressing into her back without an outlet for release. Needing to get out, I try to extricate my arm from her side when her vice grip keeps it planted there. Pressing her ass against me, a soft moan leaves both of our bereft lips.

  
I don't want to wake her, but my choices are limited if I am to leave with our friendship intact. “Kathryn?” My voice comes out heavy with desire and it makes it even more painful to try and wake her from our perfectly woven cocoon. “Kathryn?”

  
“Mmmhmm…” her soft mumble sends a delicious tingle down my spine.

  
Is that the sound she makes in the throes of passion or is she more vocal? Straining now more than ever against her relaxed body, I steer those lustful thoughts out of my mind and murmur again, “Kathryn, it's time to wake up?”

  
She slinks her body around so that we are facing each other and whines, “But I don't want to wake up.” Pressing her hands against my chest, her hand rears back when it touches the cool metal of my communicator. Slowly opening her eyes to consciousness, her breathing becomes hitched, scared as to what she will find in bed next to her.

  
Taking pity on her, I lightly kiss her forehead and murmur, “You can go back to sleep. I can see myself out.” Untangling my arms from her warm body, I sit on the edge and scrub the sleep my face with the heel of my hands.

  
“You can stay," her voice is small, frightened of the repercussions of her decisions.

  
I know exactly what she needs me to do and as much as I would love to give in to the curiosity of tasting her skin, I can't do it while pretending to be someone I am not. Afterwards, she would hate me and neither of us can afford that. Taking in a deep, calming breath, I shake my head, “I would be a poor substitute for the man you really desire to be next to you.”

Standing up, I risk a glance over my shoulder to see that her eyes have closed. If she is pretending to be asleep or not, I take it as my cue to leave. “Goodnight, Kathryn.” Slipping out of her quarters, I make a beeline for mine. As I reach my door, I thank the Spirits that there was no one in the corridor to see my walk back in wrinkled clothes.

  
Going inside and straight to the bathroom, I resign myself to a cold shower and several hours of meditation to rid myself the memory of her soft skin cradled to the palm of my hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think!!


End file.
